


Wait and See

by FriendOfTheMarauders



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Angst, Basilisk - Freeform, Chamber of Secrets, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Neutral Harry, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry Potter, Stuck in the past, Time Travel, closed time loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendOfTheMarauders/pseuds/FriendOfTheMarauders
Summary: Stuck in the past, Harry has no way to return but to live his life. Can he survive Slytherin house, three wizarding wars, and having to watch his loved ones die all over again? I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.
Relationships: Charlus Potter/Dorea Black Potter, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier Black, Orion Black/Walburga Black
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	1. 1942

It was bright, too bright, when he opened his eyes. A familiar, unwelcome brightness. Harry sat up with a groan, looking around and recognising the Hogwarts hospital wing. He rubbed at his forehead. It was throbbing, though thankfully it wasn’t his scar. He blinked; the fuzzy image of the hospital wing was not doing anything for his headache. He saw a woman walk over to him as he searched the bedside table for his glasses. He found them and put them on as she reached him.

“Good afternoon young man. I see you’re finally awake.” She spoke pleasantly, sweetly. Harry’s brow creased in confusion as he looked at her. She was tall and slender, with jet black hair that was pinned up in a braided bun. Her face was handsome, with prominent cheek bones and her eyes were piercing hazel. Her smile was warm though and her thin lips were stained an earthy brick colour. She wore the familiar matron outfit, but… she wasn’t Madam Pomfrey.

“Er, hello.” He said dully, still staring at her.

“I am Madam Metcalfe.” She introduced, moving closer and gently touching his forehead with the back of her hand, testing his temperature. She hummed, “Well, you don’t feel too hot or cold, but I’m going to have to run a few tests. You gave everyone quite the fright, appearing like that. Faulty portkey?” she asked as she waved her wand.

Harry simply stared blankly. “I don’t-“

“Remember? Oh. Do you know where you are?” Madam Metcalfe paused her casting.

“Hogwarts. The hospital wing.” The boy replied, sure of himself in at least that.

The mediwitch nodded, “That’s right. Do you remember your name?”

“Harry.” Harry said. “Harry Potter…” he shifted uncomfortably; he was never used to introducing himself.

“Do you know what the date is, Harry?” She asked patiently, though Harry had the slight feeling he was being patronised.

“Er, Halloween 1996?” he asked, not all that sure.

Madam Metcalfe gave him a curious look, “It’s not yet 1943.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he gaped at her. “1943? You mean, I’m in 1943?”

“Well, no. It is still only November of 1942. November 6th, specifically. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

He groaned, putting his head in his hands. This had to be some sort of joke. A sick joke. The lady furrowed her brow at him.

“Perhaps I should fetch the headmaster…” She said, walking away to her office.

Harry said nothing. He looked up and watched her leave. Damn his luck. He was somehow in the past. In 1942. He tried to remember what happened, but the last thing he knew he was leaving potions class before the Halloween Feast. He had planned on camping out in his dorm and skipping the meal.

He fell back onto his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “I hate Halloween.” He muttered.

A few minutes later Madam Metcalfe returned from her office. She was joined by two men. One was short, with pale skin, deep set brown eyes and a thinning grey beard. His hair was neatly combed and whispy; and he relied on a crooked cane to stay upright. Harry was sure he recognised him from somewhere.

The other man was tall, with rich auburn hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. His nose was crooked, and his eyes were a sparkling blue. Harry lit up in recognition. This was young Albus Dumbledore; slightly older than how he had looked in his Dumbledore’s pensieve.

“Professor Dumbledore” he gasped, pushing himself up.

Dumbledore regarded him with a bemused expression. “Yes, hello young man.”

“Thank goodness you’re here, well, young you. Look, I don’t belong here. I don’t know how but I was sent back in time. I need to go back home.” He rambled.

The other man furrowed his brow at Harry. “You can’t expect us to believe that, boy.” He said somewhat snappishly. “How do we know you aren’t a Grindelwald spy? It was highly suspicious how you just appeared like that in the great hall.”

“Come now Armando,” Dumbledore spoke gently. “He is merely a boy. Can you prove this?” he directed at Harry.

Harry thought for a moment but shook his head. “I don’t think so… you could give me truth potion?” he suggested weakly.

“You would be willing to take Veritaserum?” Albus asked.

Harry nodded. “I know it’s crazy, but I’m telling the truth.”

The other man, Armando, looked to Madam Metcalfe. “Go fetch Slughorn. Tell him to bring Veritaserum.”

The lady nodded and hurried back to her office. Harry guessed she must have a floo in there.

“Well then young man, may we know your name?” Albus asked.

“…Harry.” Harry said. “Harry Potter.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore smiled, “May I ask, are you by any chance related to young Charlus Potter?”

Harry paused, “I think so? I don’t exactly know much about my family.” He frowned.

“I wouldn’t doubt it; you look remarkably similar. Except those eyes. And your nose is straighter, I also see some Black family traits. Your cheek bones specifically. I recall the young Potter heir married miss Dorea Black a small handful of years ago.” Dumbledore remarked. “What say you headmaster?”

The older man looked to Albus with a mildly annoyed expression, “I suppose. Could you prolong your questions until after he takes the potion, Albus?” he spoke sternly.

Harry blinked. He had never really been described that way. It was always ‘You look like your father, with Lily’s eyes.’ He smiled a bit. “Well, Sirius did say that he and I were kind of related through my grandmother.” He looked a little lost, remembering the conversation he and his godfather had about his family tree. He missed him.

“Sirius?” Dumbledore asked, disregarding the headmaster’s wishes.

“Sirius Black,” Harry elaborated, a longing smile upturning his lips, despite his sad eyes. “Oldest son of Walburga and Or-“

“Orion,” Dumbledore’s nose wrinkled. “Yes, I heard those two are betrothed.”

“Nasty business, marrying cousins,” Armando couldn’t help but nod, a similar look of disgust playing his features. “Ah, Horace!” he declared, looking towards Madame Metcalfe’s office.

The woman in question had appeared with a familiar man. Horace Slughorn approached them, a small vail of clear liquid in his hand and another of a darker liquid. The mediwitch decided to return to her office this time after directing Slughorn over to them.

“Headmaster,” he addressed Armando, “I have what you asked. Would you mind telling me what this is all about?” he had that same curious, almost greedy glint in his eye as he looked at Harry.

“Thank you, Horace. Our John Doe needs to verify his story.”

“My name’s Harry.” Harry said weakly.

“We shall see about that. Horace, would you?” Armando motioned for Slughorn to administer the potion.

Harry readily opened his mouth to allow a drop onto his tongue. After a moment he felt tired. His eyes drooped to a lazy, misty eyed look and he blinked slowly.

“What is your name?” The headmaster demanded.

“Harry James Potter.” Harry said. It was a bland drawl, void of emotion, and Harry didn’t even realise he was speaking.

Slughorn looked even more interested by that, “Potter, you say?” he piped up curiously, keen for more information.

“How did you come to be here?” Albus asked calmly, not paying much attention to the potion master.

“I don’t know.”

There was a brief silence, Albus and Armando glancing at one another, before Albus spoke again. “How old are you?”

“16 years old.”

“What is your motive to be here?” Armando asked.

Harry stayed silent. He hadn’t an answer.

“Are you really from the future, like you said?” he snapped.

“What?” Slughorn muttered and carefully watched Harry, that greedy glint in his eye growing.

“Yes.”

“What year did you come from?” Albus asked quickly.

“1996.”

“Does Grindelwald win the war?” Armando asked. Dumbledore looked at him with a pinched look.

“Professor Dippet, I don’t think it is wise to ask such questions.” He cautioned, but Harry replied anyway.

“No.”

A sad smile formed on Dumbledore’s face regardless of his previous thought. The satisfied smirk on Dippet’s face was pointed at the taller man.

“I believe that is quite enough.” Albus said. Dippet nodded reluctantly and Slughorn moved to give Harry the darker liquid.

Harry regained his emotions and wrinkled his nose at the taste of the antidote.

“So, you believe me now?” he asked.

Dippet nodded, “Yes. I apologise young man. These are dangerous times.”

Harry accepted the apology. “I understand.” He did, his own time being also one of war. ”Can you send me back home?” he implored hopefully. “No offence, but I want to go back.” He thought of his friends with a frown.

“Alas, Harry,” Dumbledore said in such a way that Harry was instantly reminded of his older self. “The only way in which one can travel forward in time presently, is to merely live.”

Harry frowned. All he could do was live out his life? He was fifty-four years in the past! He would be seventy by the time he got back to where he should be! And what of Voldemort? The Death Eaters? He was supposed to defeat them, but how could he when he was stuck in the past! But then, he thought once his brain calmed down a little, maybe this could work to his advantage… he would be an adult. He would have fifty more years of experience. Maybe _this_ would be the ‘power the dark lord knows not’.

“Rest assured, Harry,” Albus broke the boy out of his musings, a strangely knowing look on his face as he stared into the boy’s emerald eyes, “We will ensure our best to acquaint you with this time.”

“Albus, where will he live?” Dippet asked, bringing up a topic Harry had yet to think of.

Dumbledore gave it thought, “I believe the ministry-“

“We cannot take this to the ministry, Dumbledore,” Dippet snapped. “Who knows what those uptight fools will do with the boy. No, we keep this among ourselves. Do you hear that, Horace?” the aged wizard looked to Slughorn, who nodded eagerly.

“Of course, we can’t let _this_ get out.” He spoke with that mostly harmless greedy tone he often used when around Harry back in Harry’s own time. Guess some things don’t change.

“I believe you have space for one more at your home, Albus, you never did have children, and the boy seems to know you already,” Dippet trailed off, thinking.

Dumbledore had an unreadable look on his face but the sparkle in his eyes was far from gone. He mused aloud, “I suppose that might be suitable, it would be nice to have company over the summer…”

Harry, living with Dumbledore? The teen was too shocked by the suggestion to speak. He gaped at Dippet before he came back to his senses.

“He could pose as a relative of some sort. A distant cousin, something like that,” Dippet continued, not looking at Harry. “Now living with you thanks to a Grindelwald attack.”

“And as for school, he can enrol here,” Slughorn added. “Can’t he,” he directed to Dippet as more of a request than a question. “He can’t very well abandon his studies.”

Dippet nodded. “Of course, Horace. That way we can keep an eye on him.” He spoke as if Harry wasn’t right there. It annoyed the teen just a little and he glared at the old man. “We will have to change his name, too. You said you are 16?” Dippet addressed Harry briefly.

Harry nodded.

“Good, good. What NEWTS have you chosen?”

“Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Potions” he noticed Slughorn grin at that but decided to just ignore him. 

“You are looking to be an auror?” Dumbledore questioned and Harry nodded.

“Very well,” Armando spoke flippantly, “We shall fix you a schedule for those classes. Onto the matter of your name. It would be unwise for you to remain Harry Potter.”

“What about Evans? Jamie Evans?” Harry suggested after a moment. He wouldn’t be traced easily with that name, and it was a nice tie to his parents.

Dippet nodded in acceptance. “Very well, Mr Evans. You were home schooled. Your parents died in an attack by Grindelwald and his followers. There was one in the paper last week. In Devon, I believe. Albus is a distant cousin so you were sent to live with him and enrolled here.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. Erm, can I get up now? I’m not exactly ill or anything. I don’t really like the hospital wing…” he admitted bashfully.

Dippet nodded. “Dinner is in three hours. We can use that time to get you supplies for the year. Professor Dumbledore can take you to Diagon Alley.” He turned away and headed towards the great oakwood doors of the entrance.

“I look forward to seeing you in class, my boy,” said Slughorn, following after the headmaster with a quick glance to Harry.

Dumbledore stayed put and smiled at Harry with those twinkling blue eyes. “Come along then, Jamie,” he said kindly and Harry got out of bed. He retrieved his wand from the bedside table and smoothed out his clothing.

He was dressed in his school uniform, tie missing but stuffed into his pocket. He saw his shoes, robe, and school bag resting on the chair next to the bed and quickly rifled through his belongings, breathing a sigh of relief when he found his map and cloak safe. He also found he had small pouch full of galleons and sickles at the very bottom of the bag amongst some broken quills and lint. It wasn’t much money, but he was thankful he had small amount at least.

“I don’t have much money for supplies, professor,” he informed Dumbledore nervously as he shoved his shoes on.

The professor shook his head, “Do not worry about that, Jamie. The there is a school fund for such cases in which a student finds themselves in financial difficulty,” he explained as he began to walk towards the door. Harry followed quickly, swinging his bag over his shoulder, and folding his robe over his arm. It was chilly outside of the hospital wing, but he was wearing a jumper over his school shirt so wasn’t cold. “And as for calling me professor,” Dumbledore continued, “I think that while in private it would only be fair to allow you to call me Albus. After all, we are cousins, are we not?” He grinned down at the black-haired teen.

Harry blinked up at the man, “Um, sure. If that’s okay with you… Albus.” The name felt awkward to say but the man just nodded in approval.

They were heading towards the transfiguration corridor, Harry realised. It was a short walk there usually, but every so often a student would appear and ask Dumbledore a question about homework or something. They would usually look Harry over curiously before leaving. Harry noticed their uniforms were different to his. They were dark grey beneath their black robes. Blazers with coloured bands around the cuffs that matched their double striped ties gave away their house affiliations, and the Hogwarts crest was embroidered onto the left breast pocket. Harry was thankful that his bag at least matched what the other students were carrying. It was a satchel type bag, made from a dark brown fabric. It had lasted him a while, that bag. He was also thankful what he was wearing didn’t make him stand out too much from the current time. The only thing that would have been a red flag of not belonging was the broken digital watch around his wrist, but that was covered by his sleeve.

“Professor Dumbledore,” yet another student called out and Harry would have resigned himself to just look out the nearby window in boredom, but his scar started to ache. It was dull, not the usual sharpness it presented, and was more a sort of pressure. Looking up at the boy who had just walked up to them, Harry immediately knew why he was now in pain. 


	2. The Stubbornness of Headwear

“Yes, Tom?” Dumbledore asked, his tone kind but wary as he looked over the young man in front of him.

Harry clenched his fists and tried not to glare. It was Tom Riddle. It had completely slipped Harry’s mind that Riddle had been in school in the forties. The boy looked exactly as he had when his memory came out of the diary back in second year. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this was before or after he let the Basilisk loose.

“Professor, I wanted to ask you,” Riddle spoke, his voice silky and polite. He held himself with much the same politeness, back straight and looking at Dumbledore, though not quite in the eyes. “I am currently tutoring Elizabeth Beilby, and I wanted to know exactly what you’re covering with the third years at the moment. Miss Beilby wasn’t quite clear.”

Dumbledore nodded and hummed, “I believe the third years are now learning how to turn a tortoise into a tea pot. I remember Elizabeth having a rather difficult time with the theory.”

Tom nodded, “Thank you, professor.” He lingered a moment, looking at Harry, who stared back confidently. The taller boy’s cold eyes flitted over Harry’s form and his mouth formed a curious smirk.

“Will that be all, Tom?” Dumbledore spoke, almost impatiently.

Tom looked away from Harry and back to Dumbledore, flashing a charming smile, “Yes. Thank you again, professor. Have a delightful evening,” he said before turning and striding calmly down the corridor and disappearing behind a corner.

“Are you alright, Jamie?” Dumbledore asked warmly, curiosity in his eyes.

Harry forgot that the professor was talking to him for a moment, but then he nodded, “I’m fine, sir,” he said, but his fists were still clenched.

Dumbledore looked at him for moment but didn’t push. Instead they continued on their way.

They stopped short of the transfiguration classroom. Instead, Albus unlocked the door to the office next door and led Harry inside. The decoration was similar to that of when the room belonged to McGonagall. Gryffindor colours were spread about the room, and the same paintings were on the walls. There were definitely more Dumbledore touches here and there. A handful of gadgets sat on shelves and here was a gilded perch off to one side, upon which sat a large red bird.

“Fawkes!” Harry grinned, heading directly to the phoenix, who cocked his head at the human but accepted the gentle strokes he gave. Harry’s previous anger had calmed almost immediately upon seeing the gorgeous bird.

“Ah, the two of you meet in the future then?” Dumbledore chuckled and Harry looked to him with a grin.

“We do,” he confirmed, letting his hand fall. Fawkes let out a noise of disappointment, which made Harry laugh, and flew onto Dumbledore’s shoulder to begin playing with his hair in a way that Hedwig usually did to Harry. Hedwig… Harry frowned. He was going to miss her.

Dumbledore laughed and gave Fawkes a pet, “Hello old friend,” he smiled ad Fawkes nibbled his finger. “Would you do Jamie and myself the favour of taking us to Diagon Alley?” he asked, and Fawkes gave what Harry assumed to be an affirmative chirp. Dumbledore called him to his side and gripped his shoulder firmly before Fawkes let out a shriek. Harry was suddenly encompassed by a brief burning sensation, like he had put the shower on too high for only a second. When the burning stopped, he stumbled forward out of Dumbledore’s grasp and caught himself before he fell flat on his face and crashed into the cobbles below him.

The familiar hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley met Harry’s ears and he looked around. The Alley was much the same as it was in his time and Harry found himself grinning. He liked Diagon Alley. Just the overwhelming presence of magic and the familiar sights made him happy. Especially now, as absolutely no-one stared at him! He quickly followed as Dumbledore led the way through the crowd towards the bank. It didn’t take very long for the professor to retrieve a small pouch of gold from the goblins, and the two wizards set about their shopping.

Three hours later, Harry was stood inside the great hall beside the teacher’s table. He wore the correct uniform under plain robes that held no affiliation to any house. His hair was shorter and pushed back out of his face, lining up more with the hair styles common of the time. He missed his long tresses, especially his fringe, as now his scar was clear to see. He felt bare as he stood before the entirety of Hogwarts. He was waiting to be sorted again and he just hoped he would once more be placed in Gryffindor.

Riddle was watching him from the Slytherin table. Harry could see him, his piercing gaze and obnoxious smirk. Merlin, Harry wished he could wipe that smirk off his chiselled face. Students around Riddle occasionally glanced his way, but Harry could ignore them. The same went for students of the other houses. Riddle though… he kept his eyes firmly on Harry, not even looking away when his fellow Slytherins addressed him. Harry fought the urge to glare. Instead, he tried to focus on the ceiling and the beautiful evening sky it was depicting, but every so often he would look back over the students and saw _Him_ still staring.

Finally Dippet decided to speak, once he was sure every student had arrived. The students were certainly confused as to why there wasn’t any food on the tables yet. A lot hadn’t realised Harry was stood by the Teachers’ table. Their usual chatter died down as soon as the headmaster stood.

“Students,” Dippet began, “You may recall the incident of two days ago. A new student of ours landed here thanks to a defective portkey. After recovering in the Hospital wing, Mr Evans is now able to be sorted. I hope that, whatever house he is sorted into, you will treat him fairly and welcome him openly.” He sat down and Dumbledore, who was stood beside Harry, led the teen to the centre of the hall before the great table.

Harry looked out to the sea of students all now watching him with varying levels of intrigue. He was fairly certain he caught a few whispers about the lightning bolt scar that reached across his forehead and cut through his eyebrow. At least, he thought, here he wasn’t The-boy-who-lived. The scar held no meaning here. He was just a new kid with a weird head wound. Intrigue would die down eventually.

He felt the Sorting hat be placed on his head and heard its familiar voice echo in his mind, “Well, what have we here?” The hat spoke in surprise. “I have sorted you once before, though I have yet to… how interesting…”

“Hello again hat,” Harry greeted impatiently. “Can you just sort me into Gryffindor and get this over with?” He thought with a frown.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid can’t do that, Mr Potter.” The hat said. “I told you before that you are best suited elsewhere. You evaded my decision then, but I still believe you belong in-“

“No, please. Don’t put me there!” Harry cut the hat off, who just huffed.

“I think I know more than you on where to place students, young man,” the hat grumbled snappishly. “I have been doing this for over a hundred years. You, I do believe, are a mere sixteen years old. Now let me do my job,” he spoke with an uppity sort of voice.

Harry usually would have apologised for insulting him, but he couldn’t be put in Slytherin. Not with Riddle. “Why do you even want to put me there?”

“Young man, you have a very cunning mind. Very daring. Ambitious. I do believe you’re even more Slytherin material now than when you were eleven. Did you not profess to yourself, when you found you would be stuck here, that you would use this opportunity to your advantage?”

Harry almost sputtered aloud, “What? But- but that doesn’t mean anything! It could just mean I’m brave enough to live in the past or something.”

The hat scoffed, “Boy, you will come to find that I am a very stubborn garment. I allowed you to change my mind once, but that won’t happen again. I strongly believe that you belong to-

“SLYTHERIN!” The hat bellowed, and Dumbledore removed it from the boy’s head. There was thunderous applause as Harry’s robes transformed to match those of his new housemates and he blinked, pale and wide eyed. Dumbledore nudged him over to the snake’s table, granting him a kind but mildly disappointed smile. Stumbling a bit, Harry walked solemnly to the Slytherin table amidst cheers and clapping.

He briefly glanced at the teacher’s table and saw Slughorn grinning proudly, and Dippet watching him with a calculating look. Harry returned his eyes to the ground. His fists were clenched, and he was gritting his teeth. Why did it have to be Slytherin? Maybe he probably wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t for the fact that Riddle was in Slytherin too. He would be stuck in close quarters with the bastard for months! Maybe even years! He didn’t quite know how old the guy was, so it was very much likely he would end up spending the next two years of school with him.

He was quietly seething as he sat down at the emerald decked table amongst his new classmates. He barely even listened to the headmaster speak words of congratulations, and almost didn’t notice when food appeared. The loud chatter of students returned, and Harry pushed his plate away, defeatedly laying his head on his arms. That was, until someone poked his shoulder sharply. Harry looked up to see a boy with long, white-blonde hair and a pale pointed face sneer at him. A gold badge was pinned to his impeccably neat robes, head boy. He must be a Malfoy, Harry thought absently.

“Pass the gravy,” he requested.

Harry sighed and did so mutely. He decided to help himself to some food, but just sat picking at it.

“Oi, new kid,” a different voice broke through to him. He looked over at a pale boy with thick wavy hair and storm grey eyes. Harry frowned; the boy reminded him of Sirius. He was sat diagonally to his left and was staring with concern. “You alright?”

“Don’t speak to him, Alphard.” Another boy said. He looked vaguely similar to Alphard, though with rich chocolate skin. He sneered at Harry. “He’s probably a mudblood.”

Alphard rolled his eyes, not noticing Harry glaring at the other boy. “I was just being civil, Orion.” He huffed before returning to his food and Harry realised that these two must be Sirius’ Father and Uncle. This made him upset again and he looked down, forgetting his brief anger over the boy’s use of that word.

Harry attempted a mouthful of shepherd’s pie, but it tasted bland. He looked around. Aside from the Malfoy and the two Blacks, he couldn’t really identify anyone. Well, apart from Riddle, who was sitting not too far away from him it seemed. Harry could have kicked himself. He hadn’t noticed he had chosen a spot so near the git. He was only two students down from Alphard and was still watching Harry as he ate.

Harry had finally had enough of the staring and glared back at the boy. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stare at me?” he snapped.

There was an immediate hush over this part of the table. Alphard watched on in worry, while Malfoy, Orion, and the other students surrounding them watched on in almost sadistic curiosity.

Tom just grinned darkly, interest pooling in his eyes, “So he speaks,” he drawled. His voice was like velvet. “Tell me, Evans, what is your name?”

“Jamie,” Harry said shortly. “And yourself?”

“Tom Riddle,” the other boy introduced. He looked excited at the back and forth. Harry saw it in his dark eyes. “And what year are you, Jamie? If I may call you that?”

Harry’s stomach did flips, no he most certainly couldn’t call him Jamie. He could not use the name of the man he killed. Of Harry’s father. “Only if I can call you Tom,” he retorted in feigned politeness, hoping to irritate the bastard, but Riddle looked even more amused. Harry fought the urge to glare. “I’m in sixth year.”

Riddle hummed, “It appears we have a new dorm mate then, Orion,” the snake drawled, looking briefly to the boy in question. The flips Harry’s stomach were doing suddenly froze to a lurching halt. Riddle was in sixth year. They were going to have to share a bloody dorm! He would practically have zero respite from the bastard!

Orion nodded, “I do hope you don’t snore, Evans.”

There were a few snickers and Harry struggled to find a reply. He felt out of his depth. He knew that life in Slytherin would be different to life in Gryffindor, but these verbal battles were subtle and biting. Vastly different to the confrontations of lions. He was doing well so far, but he was bound to stumble at some point. He resigned himself to just chuckle lightly with the other snakes.

“Jamie,” Tom spoke again once the laughter died away. “I must ask, what happened to give you that rather… peculiar scar?”

Most of the surrounding students seemed incredibly eager to learn the answer too, and watched him expectantly. Even Alphard, who had previously been avoiding looking at him, was watching him curiously. Harry was tempted to bite out a ‘none of your business’ but instead responded remarkably coolly.

“I got it when my parents were killed.”

Alphard flinched and looked away again, but the same courtesy wasn’t offered by any of the others. In fact, it just seemed to interest them more.

“My condolences,” Tom said. If Harry didn’t know how much of an evil git the boy was, he would have fallen for the charm and respect Riddle offered in that moment.

“Indeed,” Malfoy agreed. He took a bite of his food before continuing, “Your parents, they were our kind, weren’t they?”

Harry was reminded strongly of the first time he met Draco. He put on a small, proud smirk, “Of course,” he began. “I can safely assume that to be the case for yourself?”

Malfoy straightened, disgusted at the mere idea of anything otherwise, “The Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy has been pure for generations,” he insisted rather snobbishly. Harry found a small amount of joy in his ability to piss of the pompous git.

A boy on the other side of Harry scoffed. He was dark-haired, with rectangular glasses and a scholarly face. He bore a prefect badge, and Harry also noticed a similar artifact pinned to Riddle’s robes. “Abraxas, don’t be a jerk.” He looked to Harry with a polite but bored smile, “Viktor Lestrange, a pleasure to meet you, Evans.”

Harry smiled a small but real smile. This boy seemed okay, “And you.”

Malfoy just let out a derisive huff and returned to his food.

“What NEWTs are you taking?” Lestrange asked.

“Oh, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, and Defence,” Harry listed.

“How delightful,” Orion drawled, “Tom and I are taking those too. Bar Herbology, of course. I’m taking Runes instead.”

“And I’m taking Arithmancy,” Tom nodded.

“Healer or Auror?” Lestrange asked almost out of nowhere. Harry looked at him in confusion. “Your NEWT choices. They line up with the requirements for Healers and Aurors. Granted, you could be aiming for neither, but they are the two most likely options. Especially judging by the fact you said your parents were killed. I would guess maybe you are leaning more towards becoming an auror, rather than a healer. If you said your parents merely died, rather than making sure we knew they were _killed_ , then I would have thought healer instead.”

Harry’s original impression that Lestrange was alright kind of slipped away. He barely followed the explanation the boy gave, and he could usually keep up with Hermione. He blinked, “Er, yeah. Auror…” he said warily, and Lestrange looked satisfied as he pushed his glasses up.

“How noble, Jamie,” Riddle commented, returning to his food, and the conversation seemed to dry up quickly afterwards.


	3. Rules and Regulations

The rest of dinner was uneventful, and Harry lingered behind as the majority of Slytherins departed back to their common room. Unfortunately for him, Tom Riddle and Orion Black stayed behind too. Malfoy and Lestrange had left together, and Alphard had been approached by a small group of Ravenclaws who dragged him away to the library. There weren’t many students left finishing off dessert, and Harry sat in an uncomfortable silence among Riddle and Black. The silence didn’t last long, however, as Professor Slughorn had decided to appear.

“Jamie, my boy!” he called out cheerfully and Harry fought back a look of annoyance.

“Hello, professor,” he greeted.

“Congratulations on becoming a Slytherin. It’s my own house, you know,” he spoke with a strange sort of pompous excitement and Harry nodded.

“Professor Dumbledore told me earlier, sir,” he said politely.

Slughorn beamed, “Yes, yes. On the topic of your cousin, he has requested you to go to his office once you have finished eating,” the portly man informed. Dumbledore himself had left the great hall some minutes prior.

Harry noticed Tom perk up at the mention of Dumbledore. “I can show him the way, if you’d like, professor.” Riddle suggested, which mildly startled the man.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn smiled, “I hadn’t noticed you there,” he chuckled. “I see the two of you are acquainted?”

“You could say that,” Harry grumbled under his breath.

“Yes, professor. I thought it wise to introduce myself and offer my assistance, seeing as I am sixth year’s prefect,” Riddle nodded.

“Good man,” Slughorn praised. “Well now, you boys don’t want to be talking to an old man like myself,” he chortled. It was a weird thing for Harry, considering the Slughorn of his own time was far older than this one.

“You’re not old, sir,” Harry commented, which only made Slughorn grin wider.

“Why thank you, dear boy. But I digress. I shall leave you boys be. I have some delightful candied pineapple in my office just begging to be eaten,” he spoke conspiratorially and made his way out of the hall.

When he was gone Harry looked to Riddle, “I do know the way to Professor Dumbledore’s office. You don’t need to show me.”

Riddle only smirked, “I would hate for you to get lost.”

“And you will need someone to show you the way to the common room,” Orion added. He and Riddle were already standing, and Harry sighed.

“Fine,” he muttered and followed the two out of the great hall.

They walked in silence for a while, which Harry preferred, with Black and Riddle flanking either side of him. He felt uncomfortable and awkward, sandwiched between them.

“So you’re related to Dumbledore?” Riddle questioned. They were about halfway to the office, and Harry just wished they were there already.

“Yes,” He replied simply, looking straight on.

“Interesting…” Riddle mused. Harry could almost hear the cogs in Riddle’s head turning. “Cousins, Slughorn said, correct?”

Harry nodded. “Second cousin, once removed,” He recited the story he and Dumbledore had discussed while they were out shopping. Apparently, the professor had a second cousin who died recently who would be the right age to be Harry’s mother. She never married, and both her parents were also dead. Harry hadn’t really understood Dumbledore’s need to go that far into a cover story, but he supposed that it was a good call considering Slytherin nosiness.

“What does he need to talk to you about?” Orion asked, and Harry pursed his lips.

“How am I supposed to know? Besides, even if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business.” He retorted snappishly. He was thankful they were pretty much almost outside the office now and he quickly pulled ahead.

He knocked on the office door and received a ‘Come in’. Black and Riddle waited by the door as Harry entered. Dumbledore noticed the two other boys before Harry closed the door and eyed them cautiously.

“Hello, Jamie,” he smiled at Harry.

“Erm, hi professor,” Harry smiled back.

Dumbledore chuckled, “Jamie, I have already told you, you don’t need to call me professor when we are in private.”

“Right,” Harry rubbed his neck awkwardly. “How are you doing, Albus?”

“Very well, thank you. And yourself?

Harry grimaced and Dumbledore laughed.

“I see,” he commented. “Well I suppose it is only fair. You have only just arrived, after all.”

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Harry asked, getting to the point.

“Ah, yes.” Dumbledore stood and rounded his desk, stepping closer to Harry. “I just have a few things to go over that we didn’t have time to cover earlier today. You will find that your belongings have been sent to your dorm, and you will be happy to note that, as your new legal guardian, I have signed permission for you to go to Hogsmeade. I believe the next outing is scheduled for next Saturday if I am not mistaken.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you, Albus. I’ve heard Hogsmeade is great,” he commented. He was well aware that Riddle and Orion would likely be listening in.

“It truly is. Especially with friends. I saw you were talking with your fellow housemates at dinner?”

Nodding, Harry had a mild look of confusion on his face but played along. “Yeah. Alphard Black is pretty nice, and Viktor Lestrange. It was a little weird though. Does he always talk so fast?”

Dumbledore laughed, “Yes, I believe his penchant for deduction can be a bit strange at first. He’s always been an observant young man.”

“Is- is there anything else, Albus?” Harry asked hesitantly and Dumbledore shook his head. The teen nodded and made to open the door, but just as the door was opened a crack, Dumbledore spoke up again, his tone solemn.

“Just before you go, Jamie,” he said softly, “Know that I am always here to talk to. It must be hard, being here, torn from everything and everyone you knew.”

Harry blinked, but nodded. Part of him worried if, in the case Riddle really was eavesdropping, he would be able to read through his words, but the rest of him knew Dumbledore was being vague enough. “I know. Thank you,” he smiled softly. It hadn’t quite hit him yet, missing his friends, and the reality of living for 50 years without them, but he knew it would eventually. Having someone who knew, who he could talk to would be nice.

He pulled the door open all the way and was immediately confronted by Riddle. He had definitely been listening.

“Come along then, Evans,” the boy smiled politely enough, but, as always, his eyes were cold. Orion was a short length back from Riddle and was watching Harry intently.

Mutely, Harry allowed himself to be led away from the safety and comfort of Dumbledore’s office. The corridors were empty of students, most having retreated to their own common rooms or the library. Black and Riddle were thankfully silent as they walked, but Harry felt them send him looks when they thought he wouldn’t notice. It was highly unsettling.

To Harry’s relief, they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room by the time the looks got almost unbearable. Orion pointed out a subtle embossed snake on a nearby sconce, telling him that if he got lost to just look for the snakes. On the part of the wall they had stopped in front of there was a basilisk engraved about eye level on one of the large bricks. Tom cleared his throat.

“Temet nosce,” he stated firmly. The wall shimmered slightly as though it were a ghost -if walls could be ghosts- and Riddle stepped through it. Orion nudged Harry to follow and he passed through the wall into another dimly lit corridor. A large ornate door stood at the end of it and Riddle led the way He opened the door with ease and stepped into the common room.

The room itself was also dimly lit with a greenish glow that came from lamps dotted about the place. Large windows reaching from floor to ceiling revealed the dark waters of the lake, though many had their thick emerald and brass coloured curtains drawn. Several plush chairs and sofas were situated around the room, though were mostly near the walls and the two fireplaces that opposed one another at either end of the room. There were a lot of people in the common room, some relaxing on the sofas, but most were in the centre of the room at a collection of round tables. They were studying. It was a very strange sight for Harry. It was rare in Gryffindor for a large majority of the students to be studying. The whole room felt like the library, despite the soft chatter coming from some students.

Harry was unsure of what to do, but that problem was remedied when Tom headed straight to one of the fireplaces. Orion herded the unfortunate Harry in the same direction, and he noticed that Malfoy and Lestrange were sat there reading. Among them was another boy, with sandy hair and pointed features. He was lazily flicking through some papers, every now and then adding something to them using his eagle feather quill. Tom sat on the free chair closest to the fireplace while Orion joined Malfoy and Lestrange. There were a few other students in this particular area, and Harry thought he recognised a couple of them.

Sitting straight backed in an armchair next to the sofa was an almost sickly pale young woman. She had pin-straight, dark brown hair that was pinned out of her face. She wore a pinafore, much like all the other girls in the school, underneath a dark grey cardigan. Harry hadn’t seen someone wear a pinafore since he was in primary school! He was half tempted to snicker. In his mind, pinafores were for children, not teenagers. On her feet were matte black loafers, and Harry could tell she would be rather tall if she stood. He was fairly certain this girl was Walburga Black. Her eyes were strikingly familiar, and the pinched expression she wore brought Harry instantly back to his many encounters with Sirius’ mother’s portrait.

There was one more armchair beside hers and atop it sat a slender boy with fair hair and freckles. He had his eyes closed and Harry wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep. He had a pleasant face, and Harry was fairly sure he had seen a familiar face somewhere else, but he couldn’t quite place it.

On the floor in sat a rather round boy who immediately reminded Harry of Gregory Goyle. He was hunched over a bunch of papers and was furiously scribbling away. His writing was illegible and messy.

A final boy was stood next to Riddle’s chair. He was tall and burly, with a dull look on his square face. Harry couldn’t hep but think of him as some sort of bodyguard with how he stood so close to Riddle, staring Harry down with his dark, hooded eyes.

“Evans,” Riddle began in his usual silky tone. Everyone immediately paid attention, even the fair-haired boy. He must not have been sleeping after all, Harry remarked to himself. The group were torn between looking at Harry and at Riddle. “These are Tobias Nott,” Riddle gestured to the fair-haired boy and Harry felt a sense of realisation. This must be Theo Nott’s grandfather. He mildly recalled that Theo’s father had been a Death Eater, though not one who managed to escape imprisonment. Theo Nott himself was a fairly quiet boy. Didn’t cause trouble. Harry didn’t know much else about him other than that. “Walburga Black,” Riddle continued, and Harry fought back a triumphant smirk. He had been correct in his assumption. Walburga sent him a derisive glare and returned to checking her nails. “Emeris Avery,” the boy with the eagle quill looked at Harry and sent him a polite nod of greeting. Harry nodded back without realising it. “Xavier Dolohov,” Riddle indicated to the dower bodyguard, who barely made any indication of a greeting, good or bad. He just grunted quietly, and Riddle continued his introductions. “Amicus Goyle,” The boy on the floor grinned at Harry with a crooked smile before looking back to what he was working on and crossing something out. “And you’ve already met Orion, Abraxas, and Viktor.” The three boys in question gave Harry looks of varying pleasantness.

There was a beat of silence before Harry decided that maybe they were waiting for him to speak. “Hello,” he murmured as politely as he could manage, he very well didn’t want to make enemies with this lot.

Thankfully -or perhaps not, depending on how one looked at it- Riddle decided to speak again. “As a new Slytherin, it would benefit you to learn the rules, Evans,” he declared lazily. “We have four important ones. First, do not allow access of the common room to anyone not belonging to Slytherin house.”

Malfoy nodded, flicking a page in his book, “We have a password for a reason.”

“It gets updated every fortnight. The new passwords are posted on the notice board by the door,” Orion continued.

“Second,” furthered Riddle, “Is that the house shall not be divided.”

“You will come to find that our house gets hailed as evil incarnate, and those who believe so will strive to break us at any opportunity,” Lestrange explained. “In public we must present a united front; all arguments are forgotten outside of these walls.”

“We protect our own when no one else will,” Nott piped up. His voice was soft and tired sounding.

Harry was a little confounded at the coordination of the listing. He flitted between each face as they spoke. “Third,” Harry’s eyes fell once again onto Riddle, who looked rather smug. “Strive for greatness in everything you do.”

“After all, that is what Slytherins are. Ambition is our very core,” Walburga said. Her high voice was not as shrill as her painting had been, but Harry could definitely see it getting there. “Good grades and impeccable appearances are demanded in order to uphold the standards of Slytherin house.” Merlin she was a snob, Harry held in a scoff. She sound so high and mighty it was as if she believed she were the Queen.

“Lastly, don’t get caught,” Riddle grinned a Cheshire Cat grin. His dark eyes sparkled like evil versions of Dumbledores.

“By all means, create trouble,” Orion purred.

“But be smart about it,” demanded Malfoy sternly. “Only do something if you know you can get away with it.”

“Otherwise, you deserve every punishment you get,” Riddle finished in a satisfied drawl.

Harry felt awfully overwhelmed by the information overload. So, was every Slytherin taught these rules? If so, that definitely explained a lot, he thought. He blinked. “Um, right…” he trailed. “I can stick to those,” he affirmed, if only to appease the crowd of potentially dangerous individuals.

“Make sure you do,” Walburga sniffed haughtily.


	4. The First Night

Harry had been sleeping, the most peaceful sleep he had had in a long time. He supposed it made sense, here he didn’t have Voldemort constantly attacking him with sickening visions of torture and destruction. He had been dreaming of Sirius. That wasn’t strange, he often dreamt of him, but this time it was calm. He dreamed that they were playing quidditch, flying on dragons instead of brooms. It was an amazing dream, and Harry was terribly upset when Tom Riddle yanked apart the curtains of his bed and the bright light of the morning pulled him into consciousness.

“Get up, Evans,” the boy had demanded, and Harry pushed himself up, glaring.

“What time is it?”

“Half eight,” Orion said from across the room. He was already dressed for the day, like Tom. The tall boy was wearing a smart white button-down shirt underneath a dark grey-blue sport jacket. Tom was wearing a button down too, though his were sleeves were rolled up. He also wore rolled cuff denim jeans and saddle shoes. Tobias Nott, who was also a sixth year, was nowhere to be seen, but his bed was neatly made up and his pyjamas folded atop the pillow.

Harry groaned, “But it’s a Saturday. Couldn’t you have just let me sleep?”

“We did,” scoffed Riddle. “Sundays you can sleep in, but Saturdays are for studying. Normally, we would expect you up at seven.”

“I don’t have anything to study,” Harry grumbled and got out of bed. “I haven’t had any lessons yet, remember?”

Orion rolled his eyes, “That is no excuse for unpreparedness. Besides, we will catch you up on where you should be up to. We have the same lessons.”

“Now get dressed. Breakfast ends at half nine,” Tom insisted, and he and Orion left the room.

Harry sighed. As he got dressed, he thought back to the events of last night.

The dorm room was a green and silver version of his dorm in Gryffindor. There were four large comfortable looking beds, each with a trunk at the end of them and a bedside table and dresser either side. Thick curtains hung down around each bed for privacy, which Harry greatly appreciated, and there was a door against one wall that led to a bathroom. The only difference aside from colour was the fact that the ceiling was made of water. He had thought there was glass at a first look, but the water seemed to just be defying gravity. It was a strange view and rather unnerving, but he enjoyed the sight of fish swimming above him in the great, deep lake. He just hoped that whatever magic was keeping the water out also kept creatures out. He shivered as he remembered the grindylows and merfolk he had encountered when he was fourteen.

“That is your bed there,” Riddle had indicated to the one furthest from the bathroom. Harry recognised the plain trunk he had bought at Diagon alley earlier that day, and shrugged, walking over and sitting down.

Tom, Tobias, and Orion all went about what could be assumed was their regular evening schedule. Tom left for the bathroom, Orion fished around in his dresser, and Tobias sat on his bed, back resting against his headboard, eyes closed and chest rising and falling with gentle breaths. Harry doubted he was sleeping, much like how he had in the common room.

He had been mildly surprised when it was revealed that Nott was in sixth year alongside him, Orion, and Tom. He really didn’t look sixteen. He was small of frame and his face was boyish and round. Compared to Orion, who looked the oldest out of the four thanks to his height and the beginnings of a beard, Tobias looked like a child. It reminded Harry of Neville, in some way. Though Neville was certainly taller than Nott by quite a bit. For however cherubic Nott appeared though, as Harry was quick to find out, he was twice as shrewd. His mind was incredibly sharp, and his tongue sharper. It threw Harry for a loop; the contradiction was confounding and maybe just a little scary.

Riddle and Black were easier to figure out, the two lining up with Harry’s expectations fairly well. He was pleasantly surprised when Black turned out to be rather amicable once in private, though he was almost certain it also had something to do with him not being a mudblood.

Harry sat cross-legged on his bed and watched the others go about their business. He had been tempted to draw the forest green curtains around his bed and be alone, but he thought it would arouse suspicion. Suspicion of what, he didn’t have an answer for, but he felt uneasy and didn’t think it the best idea. Besides, he would rather be able to see his new roommates than not. His sitting still and unmoving was probably not the best course of action either, as Orion looked over at him with indignation, a pair of dark blue silk pyjama bottoms clutched in his hand.

“You can move, you know. We aren’t going to kill you.” The pureblood scoffed, unceremoniously dropping his pyjama bottoms on his bed. He turned back to the dresser and fished around in it again. This time supposedly for his shirt.

Tobias sniggered from where he sat but his eyes didn’t open. His previously sombre, exhausted frown was now quirked up in a mild smile though.

Harry’s dark skin flushed, “I don’t like new places.” He defended.

Orion rolled his eyes, “You’re going to have to get used to it.”

“Excused me, I have every reason to be unnerved right now,” Harry glared.

There was an amused huff from the bathroom door and Tom appeared with a toothbrush in hand. “So you _are_ smart,” he smirked nastily.

Harry pursed his lips. _His_ appearance was an insult. If it were any other time period this probably wouldn’t be so bad, but no. It was _just_ his luck that he _had_ to land _here_. He said nothing, but stood and walked to his trunk, opening it, and set about shifting his clothes to his dresser; trying to ignore the snakes around him. He frowned at the green embellishments of his school uniform and shoved them in a drawer haphazardly without bothering to fold them neatly.

“No, no.” Tom tutted. “I will not allow you to sully the name of Slytherin House by wearing creased clothing. Tobias, sort it.” He commanded before disappearing into the bathroom once again.

Huffing, Nott opened his azure eyes. He lazily waved his wand, muttering. At once, the robes Harry had shoved into his dresser were flung out and landed in a heap on the floor.

“Hey!” Harry protested, scooping up the dark robes. “Who cares if they’re not all neat.” He growled.

“Tom does. And so do we.” Tobias said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Orion pitched in. “Now fold your clothes you uncultured ruffian,” his tone was mocking and grated on Harry’s nerves.

The boy in question glared but pushed back his stubbornness and folded his clothes carefully, placing them neatly in his dresser. It didn’t take long for him to complete his task, he didn’t have much to put away in the first place, the shopping trip earlier that day only left him with a few sets of school wear and a couple sets of casual clothing. Dumbledore had actually insisted on buying more, paying from his own pocket, but Harry persuaded him down. The professor was taking his new role as guardian very seriously and had even mentioned buying furniture and trinkets for his new room away from Hogwarts. Harry managed to make him drop the subject, if only for the fact that it would be months until he would actually live with Albus. It was already too much that the man had paid for a haircut and new glasses to replace his old, taped up pair.

Orion gave a satisfied nod and began to change into his pyjamas.

The night dragged on remarkably slowly, and Harry decided to pass the time reading. Riddle had left the bathroom already, dressed in neat, but old looking black pyjamas. Orion was now in the bathroom and Nott was still just resting with his eyes shut. Harry was starting to wonder what was up with that.

“So, Jamie,” Riddle drawled, standing at the foot of Harry’s bed. Harry looked up from his potions book and scowled.

“Yes, _Tom_?” he replied, stressing the boy’s name.

“Do you have any relation to any other families, considering you are of house Dumbledore? I wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” Riddle’s eyes trailed over Harry’s features and especially his hair. “I can see some Black in you. You are also bear an overwhelmingly striking likeness to Charlus Potter. He graduated a couple years ago…” He mused. “The way you carry yourself though, and your manners, it is hardly fitting of a pureblood. And your eyes… they are most intriguing.”

Harry’s scowl deepened, not happy with the way Riddle was examining him and commenting like he was some exhibit in a museum. Part of him wondered if he had been around Viktor Lestrange too much or if Lestrange had been around Tom too much. They certainly shared a passion for tangents and unnerving people.

“Thoughts, Nott?” Riddle asked and Tobias looked up and glanced at Harry. He hummed an affirmative. “Definitely Potter and Black blood.” He said, before returning to whatever it was he was doing.

Harry thought on the spot and shrugged, avoiding Riddle’s gaze. “I think I had a Potter relative at some point. I don’t know. I was never really interested when my parents explained our family tree.”

Nott hummed, “The Dumbledores are historically a mixed bunch. While they have no problems marrying mudbloods, they also know they importance of purity. The Dumbledores have married into almost every one of the Sacred 28 at least once in the past,” he recited lazily, and Harry couldn’t help but find himself intrigued by the titbit. He hadn’t known that. He was never much of a fan of genealogical research. That was more something Hermione was interested in. Harry fought back a frown. Damn, he missed Hermione already. It had only been a few hours, but he really missed her. Ron too. True, he hadn’t exactly been seeing much of the duo over the past few weeks, but they were his family. The realisation of being so far from them was just now settling in.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts before they could make him any more upset, Harry noticed Riddle smirk as he walked to his own bed, which horrified him to find out was the one next to his. He buried himself back in his book and tried to ignore the young dark lord.

He had neared the halfway point in his textbook before Orion returned from the bathroom. His hair was damp, and a pleasant scent travelled through the open bathroom door that reminded Harry of the Forbidden Forest somehow. Harry glanced at Nott, and when it seemed like he wasn’t going to move, Harry took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Once out of the other boys’ sights he sighed heavily, staring at himself in the partially fogged up mirror hanging above the sink. Same old him, he thought as his eyes trailed over his form. They stopped momentarily on his scar. The lightening reached cross his forehead in jagged branches, the longest cutting through his left eyebrow and stopping just before it met his eye. He reached up a hand and gently traced the old wound. When he was younger it had been smaller, more like those cartoon scribbles people drew, but as he grew it had gotten larger too, like his head was cracking open. Sometimes, when he had his visions, it felt as if though his head really was cracking open.

Letting out another sigh, Harry decided to have a shower. He had basically been in a coma for two days and had then endured a shopping trip and an inquisition. He needed a good soak. After his shower, he had re-entered the dorm room dressed in his pyjamas and his uniform draped over his arm. Nott was now in his pyjamas as well, they were a dusty blue colour, but it otherwise seemed as if he hadn’t moved at all in the half an hour Harry had occupied the bathroom. Black was sitting on his bed, casually flicking through a book of quidditch strategies. Harry remembered the title from when he himself had read it, though the book looked aesthetically different to the version he had read. Lastly, Tom was reclining gracefully on his bed, absentmindedly drawing in the air with his wand while he held a book in the other hand. Silver snakes danced through the air attached to the boy’s wand and were almost hypnotising in their movements.

Harry headed to his own bed and, after folding his uniform over the footboard neatly -he didn’t need that argument again- he settled into bed and drew the curtains. He found it quite easy to slip into peaceful slumber not too long afterwards, until he was awakened by Riddle at half past eight in the morning on a Saturday, of course.

The boy had groggily dressed himself in his new clothes. He found it strange to actually have casual wear that fit him properly. Covering his torso was a cream ‘polo shirt’ with thin green bands wrapping around it. It was made of yarn and resembled more of a t-shirt in shape than the polo shirts of his time. It fit him well and tucked into a pair of rolled cuff denim jeans similar to those Tom was wearing, though instead of pairing them with saddle shoes Harry was wearing a pair of canvas high-tops. They were a dark red colour and Harry was happy about the link to his old house.

He made his way out of the dorm room and through the common room, bumping into Alphard Black on his way.

“Oh,” Alphard blinked when he saw Harry. “Good morning,” he greeted.

Harry smiled, though it was a little forced, “Good morning,” he returned.

“Are you heading to breakfast?” Alphard asked and Harry nodded. “Great, would you mind if I joined you? You’ll probably get lost in the dungeons otherwise,” he laughed, grinning with a smile that reminded Harry painfully of Sirius.

“Sure,” he replied and the two started walking together out of the common room and through the corridors.

“Did you sleep well?” Asked Alphard pleasantly.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, thanks. I don’t think I’ve slept that well in ages.”

“Oh?” Alphard cocked his head, glancing at Harry’s face as they walked but he didn’t push the topic. “I hope my cousin wasn’t too much of a jerk. I apologise for him in advance.”

Shrugging, Harry let out a laugh. “Orion? Nah, he wasn’t too bad. Your sister, though, she’s rather scary,” he admitted, and Alphard laughed.

“Wallie is definitely a piece of work, but you should meet Cygnus if you want to know true terror.”

“Cygnus?”

“My little brother,” Alphard explained. “He’s only twelve, but he spouts out that extremist rot like a fountain. Thinks Grindewald is some sort of saint.”

Harry scoffed, he sounded like Draco. “What about you? You don’t believe in that stuff?”

Alphard shrugged, “If my family were to ask, yes, but between you and me I think it’s a load of bull. It’s ridiculous. Purebloods have started marrying their own cousins for the sake of ‘purity’. Just look at Orion and Wallie! Second cousins! It’s mad.”

“Yeah, that is kinda gross,” Harry agreed.

“Thankfully,” Alphard continued, “My parents haven’t decided who to pair me off with yet. Can’t say the same for Cygnus, he’s betrothed to Druella Rosier already, but at least _she_ isn’t our cousin.”

Alphard continued for a little longer and Harry just listened, chiming in occasionally. He found himself liking Alphard. He recalled Sirius telling him that Alphard had left him money, and that he had been burned off the family tree because of it. He figured that getting close to Alphard might be fun. He already reminded him a little of Ron.

“Er, sorry,” Alphard laughed as they neared the great hall. “You didn’t need me ranting to you like that. It’s just, I can’t really tell anyone how I feel about it all, and for some reason I feel like I can open up to you. You won’t tell anyone about this, will you? If you do, I’ll have to curse you into next century,” he joked, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

If only you could curse me into the next century, Harry thought before shaking his head, “Don’t worry about it, mate. Fee free to talk about it, I won’t tell,” he assured, and Alphard smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks,” he said as they entered the great hall for breakfast.


End file.
